Wesley Eisold’s ambitions to be a healthier, more positive person are sincere; the Cold Cave frontman reacted to a difficult past two years of “not leading a meaningful lifestyle” by naming his most recent run of shows after a new song called “Meaningful Life”. However, the extent to which these ambitions are predicated upon avoiding other people is somewhat disconcerting. While the Meaningful Life tour resulted in “a very positive experience” for Eisold, he could’ve just as accurately named it after another new song: “People Are Poison”.

“People are excess, and I made an effort to rid myself of people who were unhealthy," explains the singer with a Zen-like compactness that tempers the caustic disdain. Excess is a word Eisold returns to quite often during our phone conversation. From the sound of things, when he enlists outside help, an already volatile situation can get blown way out of proportion. The songs on 2011’s Cherish the Light Years were ambitious and stadium-aspiring on their own, but they were also mastered with obscene, brickwalled loudness. “I invited some friends who had never played on anything Cold Cave-related to come in,” Eisold explains, “and the record quickly changed to this more polished version of the original song ideas.” He’s grateful for the experience, but admits, “at this point, that’s the Cold Cave that I can’t even stand to hear.”

Likewise, a lot of our discussion circles around how the input and subsequent departure of his collaborators has been either exaggerated or completely fabricated; this list includes, but is not limited to, Dominick Fernow of Prurient, Caralee McElroy (formerly of Xiu Xiu), David Scott Stone (Melvins, LCD Soundsystem) as well as assorted members of AFI, Samhain, and Blood Brothers. And in the latest, most unseemly bit of Cold Cave controversy, several recent shows have been cancelled as a reaction to Eisold’s chosen opener, industrial/noise pioneer Boyd Rice, who's notoriously been associated with Nazi and Fascist ideology and imagery in the past. A curious choice for a guy who says he's seeking the sunshine of the spirit.

Currently working without a record deal and hesitant to do interviews over the phone in fear of sounding “pompous and overblown,” Eisold is now taking greater responsibility for his music as well as himself. Cold Cave released this year's Oceans With No End EP on Deathwish, Inc., the label run by Converge’s Jacob Bannon, and subsequent singles on Eisold’s music and literary imprint Heartworm Press. His only confirmed collaborator at the moment is his girlfriend and photographer Amy Lee (no, not that one). And then there’s the matter of Cold Cave’s upcoming third record, tentatively titled Sunflower and due out in 2014. Eisold surmises: “It'll be a mix between some of the bigger sounds on Cherish and more minimal stuff I’m interested in now, like Suicide or 39 Clocks.”

The frontman is also seizing control in the most literal way imaginable; Eisold was born without a left hand and, for years, he’d worked around it, relying on programming during shows and cloaking his handicap. This past year, though, he got a prosthetic limb-- and he insisted it match his all-black-everything attire. “[The doctor] kept trying to convince me to match my skin tone, because that’s what people do-- they get the arms to blend in so people won’t notice," Eisold says. “But I didn’t want that. I want people to notice now.”

Pitchfork: Are you the only member of Cold Cave at the moment?

Wesley Eisold: I struggle with the word “member” because there are no “members” of Cold Cave. It’s just me. I’ve collaborated with many people. Some were extremely worthwhile and others were extremely worthless, and I’ve come to the point where I’m more comfortable doing things by myself. No one’s ever “left” Cold Cave-- one person did and then begged to be back in 20 minutes later.

When I started doing Cold Cave, it was just music that I was doing at home. I wanted to do this fictitious duo, and I pitched my vocals to sound like a female singer. When I met people later on, they could fulfill this idea or contribute to songs the way that I imagined hearing the songs, but it was never a part of them or their personality put into the music. Even on Love Comes Close, people think it’s not me on the album, but there are only actual female vocals on two parts, and all the rest are just my voice pitch-shifted. A lot of people credited to that album aren’t even on it, so its been confusing.

Pitchfork: You’ve gone on record saying your new songs sound more “honest.” Do you think Cherish the Light Years was compromised in some way?

WE: There were a lot of expectations placed on that record, and I was giving into anxiety and drinking a lot of the time. It wasn’t helping that I was surrounded by some people in my band that were actually awful. I’m very grateful for everyone who has helped me, but I’m also more grateful that that time is in the past now.

My world has gotten much smaller since. I don’t really let people in anymore. I’m not interested in it; I don’t understand these friendships [where] people accept these negativities in their lives. People can be so cruel to each other and so undermining and backstabbing and that’s just not something I’m interested in.

Pitchfork: How’s your state of mind right now compared to where it was while you were making Cherish?

WE: It’s definitely been a very creative period for me. I’ve been sitting at home and writing by myself. The past year has been very humbling and cathartic: I took a hit when my friend [former Cold Cave member Justin Benoit] passed away, but that event-- which is extremely heartbreaking-- inspired me to go out and do more. I’ve suffered from extreme depression my whole life, and I’m still dealing with that, but I just don’t want to let time pass me by even more than I’ve already allowed it to.

Pitchfork: People tend to associate Cold Cave with a goth sensibility-- when you played the Pitchfork Music Festival a couple of years ago, the band wore all black and leather jackets in scorching heat. Do you feel like it’s tougher to be a positive person when you have that kind of reputation to live up to?

WE: I don’t think so. Obviously, there’s that darker side to [Cold Cave], but I’ve always thought it’s been about love and light. Everything is so hopeful sounding to me.

Pitchfork: Have you sought anything outside of music to achieve serenity?

WE: I exercise a lot. I had this prosthetic arm built for me where I’m able to lift weights. I have a trainer who is a great person in my life and I spend a lot of time with him. It's been this trial-and-error process of learning what I can and can’t do with weight. Due to technology, there’s a lot I can do with weights that I never thought to try before.

Being born without my left hand has been both a force of inspiration and awful experiences for my entire life-- without me even having a say in the matter. Since I was a child, I’ve been an outsider. It's something I’ve dealt with forever. When I was young, I had prosthetic arms and I was embarrassed by them. But I had the arm built dark black because I am different and I want it to match my personal aesthetic, all around.

Pitchfork: Will the prosthetic change how you perform as Cold Cave?

WE: The whole arm thing has been this ongoing source of confusion in Cold Cave’s music-- on a lot of records that have been influential in my life, there are instruments that I can’t physically play. I play mostly with my one hand. It’s mostly programming. It wasn’t until I got a computer that I realized I could make music. Then I started Cold Cave.

WE: I guess you just can’t say or do anything without opposition. People say art doesn’t need to be explained, but then they demand an explanation. I know Boyd Rice as a kind, intelligent, influential individual, not as any of these things that people are saying about him personally. It’s not my problem that people are ignorant or can’t contextualize his work.

Pitchfork: Were you prepared at all for this sort of backlash?

WE: There’s always a backlash no matter what you do. Of course I’m aware [of his previous statements]. People have always had this misunderstanding with his work, as they do many artists; sometimes people choose to separate someone’s art from their personality and sometimes they can’t. Boyd played New York four times that year and there hadn’t been any issues. If anything, the mistake was assuming people could contextualize it.

Pitchfork: If you had the opportunity to do the tour again, would you still book him as the opener?

WE: Of course! I know him personally and he’s a really great person. I didn’t just do some quick research on the internet and come to a conclusion about who he is.

Pitchfork: Punk and indie rock are commonly associated with liberal politics and protection of free speech-- do you find it hypocritical when the same people cancel a show with Boyd Rice because they find him offensive?

WE: If you’re looking for hypocrisy, you never need to look much further than yourself.